


Moments in Time snippets

by katling



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-03
Updated: 2015-01-17
Packaged: 2018-02-27 23:57:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2711417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katling/pseuds/katling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of snippets involving my female Mage Ceridwen Trevelyan and her time with the Inquisition and her growing attraction and romance with Cullen.</p><p>The rating is at teen and up for now but that may change. I'll make a note here if it does.</p><p>ETA: Okay, this just got taken up to Explicit because I committed smut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a bit of establishing headcanon for where my mage Trevelyan stands regarding the mage rebellion and the Circles. Obviously her point of view is very subjective. This is set very early on in Haven and assumes that only the very first flirt option with Cullen has been taken.

The refectory of the chantry was only half full when Ceridwen came in to eat. She took the plate of food the chantry sister gave her with a smile of thanks and sat down at an empty table in the corner of the room. She was heartily relieved to be sitting on a good solid wooden bench instead of a horse, a rock, a log or the ground. She knew the work they were doing in the Hinterlands was worthwhile and would be good for the Inquisition but if there was one thing she’d always liked about the Circle, it was the little luxuries.

The low susurration of conversation died a little and Ceridwen looked up from her meal to see Josephine, Cassandra, Cullen and Leliana walk into the refectory. She hunched a little and ducked her head, hoping they weren’t looking for her to give her more bad news. She still wasn’t entirely comfortable with her role in the Inquisition or the title of Herald of Andraste. A mage, the Herald of Andraste? It seemed too fantastic to be real, even if she did believe in the Maker.

And she was really hoping to avoid Cullen for the moment because, Maker help her, she’d _flirted_ with him. A Templar. Well, ex-Templar. But still… the point stood. It was the one thing she’d been warned about when she’d hit puberty in the Circle. Moon after the good-looking Templars all you like but _never_ initiate anything with them and never let them initiate anything. Nothing good ever comes of a relationship between a mage and a Templar. The power differential is too great. Stick to the mages. It was safer.

Unfortunately she was out of luck as the leaders of the Inquisition seemed to have been looking for her but as they approached, Ceridwen figured the situation couldn’t be too dire. They all had plates of their own and they seemed somewhat hesitant as they stopped at her table.

“May we join you, Herald?” Josephine asked politely.

Ceridwen nodded and gestured towards the bench opposite her. “Of course but only if you call me Ceridwen. Herald is too cumbersome for dinner. Just one thing… there’s no disaster is there?”

Leliana laughed as she and the others sat down. “No, we are disaster free for the moment. At least regarding any new disasters.”

“Oh, good,” Ceridwen said with feeling. “Because I would like at least one night in a proper bed before facing any more disasters.”

There was quiet laughter from the others then Leliana leaned forward a little. “It occurred to us that we know little about you. Just as you know little about us. We must work together and trust each other so…”

“It seemed like a good idea to sit down and talk,” Cassandra finished in her usual blunt fashion. She rolled her eyes. “Without Varric telling tall tales.”

“But I like his tall tales,” Ceridwen said with an impish smile. “I like trying to figure out what’s true and what’s a whopper of an exaggeration.”

Cassandra snorted but there was a gleam of amusement in her eyes that Ceridwen liked. The Seeker wasn’t without a sense of humour though she was so driven that it didn’t seem to shine through very often. She was determined to make Cassandra laugh. It was a new goal in her life.

“Anyway, I’m willing to talk,” Ceridwen continued. “I guess I’m the real enigma here. None of you knew me from Adam before I… well, ended up in the middle of things.”

“Why were you at the Conclave?” Josephine asked. “I mean, other than the obvious that you are a mage.”

“I came with the First Enchanter of the Ostwick Circle,” Ceridwen replied. “She wanted some level heads with her. She rather thought we’d need them. She hoped we could perhaps seek some common ground between the two groups so she brought a few of us along to act as… envoys, I suppose.”

“She trusted you that much?” Cassandra asked, looking interested.

Ceridwen nodded. “She was my mentor when I was an apprentice and even afterwards. We always got along well. We’d spend evenings talking about what I was researching. She liked to challenge me and my ideas and make me work for my conclusions.” She grimaced and shook her head sadly. “And now she’s gone. Along with everyone else who was there.”

There was a moment of silence before Josephine spoke again. “You conducted magical research then? What areas?”

“Yes,” Ceridwen said. “Well, a bit of anything that interested me really. Ironically enough, I’d been doing research into the Fade and spirits and demons and such like before all this happened.”

“You were a scholar then?”

“I’m a mage. Scholarship comes with the job description.”

“But you wanted to do research?”

Cerdiwen gave another of those wicked, impish grins. “I _wanted_ to have a warm bed, a good meal, a handsome man and the right to throw lightning bolts at people who annoy me. Was that really too much to ask?”

The others looked momentarily startled but the look of sheer mischief on Ceridwen’s face was enough to make them realise she was teasing.

“You do get some of that here,” Cassandra said, a tiny smile curving her lips.

“True,” Ceridwen replied with a grin. “I’ve been throwing plenty of lightning bolts at people who annoy me in the Hinterlands. It’s more fun than I thought it would be.”

“Why choose to study the Fade and spirits?” Leliana asked, cocking her head to one side.

“I… got curious after my Harrowing,” Ceridwen replied. “And… well, the Harrowings of some of those who were apprentices at the same time as me.”

“What is the Harrowing?” Josephine asked curiously. “I have heard of it but it seems to be some great secret.”

Ceridwen snorted. Somewhere in the back of her head she could hear her mother chiding her for being so unladylike. “Yes, they like to keep it a secret because of what it entails. It’d scare the willies out of some of the more delicate flowers among the apprentices and for good reason.” She paused and looked thoughtful. “It’s a test and failing is… fatal. If you want to live, you either pass your Harrowing or you become Tranquil.”

Josephine looked startled and Ceridwen could see Cullen’s slightly uncomfortable expression. She knew very little about him other than he used to be a Templar and, well, there had been some rumours and gossip floating around Haven which she hadn’t paid much attention to. If she ever got a free moment, she’d have to send a letter to some of her friends in the Circle who hadn’t come to the Conclave and see what they could tell her. But that was neither here nor there right now.

“A test of what?” Josephine asked.

Ceridwen paused before answering. “Not magical ability. Not really. I mean, you do use magic during the Harrowing but that’s not the point of it. You go into the Fade and face a demon. I don’t know what other people’s Harrowings were like but mine… well, I faced a demon alright. But it wasn’t that demon which was the test. It was the one who’d come to me with a false face and a friendly helping hand.” She smiled wryly. “The Harrowing teaches you that demons won’t always be in your face and aggressive about possessing you. That demons can be tricky. That you can never trust a demon.”

“What happens if you fail that test?” Josephine asked and Ceridwen saw Cullen flinch out of the corner of her eye. She almost wished for a change of subject and then she reminded herself that mages and Templars… even ex-templars… do not mix. Really, they don’t. Not at all.

“You die,” she replied. “There are always Templars present at a Harrowing. If a mage fails, they’re there to…” She shrugged sadly. “Well… to take care of things.”

“It has to be done,” Cullen said in a tone of voice that made Ceridwen wonder if he’d ever had to do that.

She nodded her agreement. “If a mage fails their Harrowing, they’re possessed. An abomination.”

“And this… happened at your Circle?” Josephine asked carefully, looking rather shocked.

Ceridwen nodded. Her own expression was grim as she remembered those days. “It was a nasty period. Three of the apprentices failed. Another three were made tranquil. All within about a two month period. The Circle was in turmoil for a while. That sort of thing gets everyone upset, wondering what went wrong and how it could happen that so many fail. Then I got the call up for my Harrowing. It was… a bit intimidating to say the least.”

“You obviously passed though,” Josephine said.

Ceridwen nodded. “It was an interesting experience. Not one I’d care to repeat. Though… Solas does have me interested. His perspective on the Fade and spirits is fascinating.”

“When did you know you were a mage?” Cassandra asked, changing the subject slightly to avoid the sticky subject of demons and the Fade.

“When I was eleven,” Ceridwen replied with a wry smile. “It was the usual sort of thing. Having nightmares and throwing things around with my mind. Accidentally setting things on fire. My parents had contacted the First Enchanter by the third morning of all that.” She laughed softly. “My mother was so disappointed.”

“She does not like mages?” Josephine said though from the expression on her face she knew that wasn’t the answer. It was just a prompt to continue.

“No, not that,” Ceridwen replied, looking amused. “She’s always been very ambitious for her children and she had grand plans about how she was going to marry her daughters off for everyone’s benefit. She still bemoans that every time I go home.”

“What was it like?” Cullen asked quietly. “I’ve… never considered it from the mage’s point of view, though I… carried out the task of fetching a young mage a few times. It didn’t… it was often difficult.”

Ceridwen turned her attention to the former Templar. She’d never considered the subject from the Templars’ point of view. What must it be like to march into someone’s home and remove their child? She suddenly realised that if the Templars in question had even a modicum of decency then it was probably as difficult for them as anyone else involved. 

“I can’t speak for a lot of other mages. I know some of them had rough times when they first came into their magic. But for me? I knew it was happening. My parents had explained as best they could. They made sure I knew I wasn’t being punished or sent away because I was bad. That I had to go to the Circle and learn all about magic so that I could do something good. So… when the Templars came I wasn’t frightened.”

She paused and chuckled. “Well, not much anyway. I was eleven and a small gangly eleven at that. And the Templars were very tall and broad-shouldered and the armour made them look even bigger. So it was a bit intimidating. But they were… kind. In an austere, somewhat distant sort of way.”

Cullen nodded. “We’re taught to do that. We’re told it helps. I’ve never known if that was true or not.”

“Were there problems at the Ostwick Circle?” Cassandra asked. “Before the rebellion, that is.”

Ceridwen shook her head. “No, not really. Not like elsewhere. I mean, we had a few mages who rode the freedom bandwagon but… the Ostwick Circle was well run. The First Enchanter kept on top of things and the Knight-Commander was a good and just man who kept strict discipline with his Templars. They worked well together and if anyone had any complaints, they knew they could take it to either of them and it _would_ be looked into and dealt with.” She gave them a wry look. “It was still a prison but it was a gilded prison and not a strict one. We were allowed to leave to see our families, if they wanted to see us, or to do the occasional bit of work for the nobles and whatnot.”

“It’s not meant to be a prison,” Cullen said with a hint of irritation though Ceridwen could tell that the irritation wasn’t directed at her. Cullen seemed to take the failings of his former order very personally though she couldn’t see why. It wasn’t his fault that the Templars had fallen to madness.

“I know,” she said sadly. “It’s not meant to be like that but that’s how it’s ended up.”

“What do you mean?” Josephine asked.

Ceridwen sighed and tapped the table with one finger. “The Circles were never meant to be prisons and the Templars were never meant to be jailers. That’s how it ended up but that was never the intention. The Circles were _meant_ to be places of learning and teaching and the Templars were meant to be guardians, of the mages and of the people. That’s how it began.”

Both Cullen and Cassandra were nodding as Ceridwen raised an eyebrow.

“Because we are dangerous,” she continued. “There’s no denying that and those that do are fools. We are dangerous not just because we wield a great deal of power, because many people do that – all of you do that in your own ways – but because if we are foolish or stupid or make a mistake, we can be possessed by demons and become abominations. We are more vulnerable to that than most people.”

“You’re not a fan of the mage rebellion then?” Cullen asked.

Ceridwen sighed again. “It’s not that simple, Cullen. I’d be the first to admit that the Ostwick Circle was a good one and I was lucky to live there. We’d all heard the stories about other Circles and some of the ones I heard at the Conclave before everything went…” She broke off and ducked her head for a moment. “Well… _Before_. Anyway… those stories would curl your hair.” She gave Cullen a small quirk of a smile. The man looked slightly strained and that traitorous part of her that had flirted with him wanted to make him smile. “Maybe straighten yours. Even taking into account the possibility of exaggeration and the effect of second hand stories… nobody can deny that some Circles were… bad. Were _broken_. Mages doing insane things. Templars abusing their power. The system was broken and had been for years but those who _should_ have been doing something about it… did nothing. And so the system was ripe for a rebellion when the opportunity presented itself.”

“So what’s the answer?” Cassandra asked, almost _challenged_.

Ceridwen snorted. “You think I know, Cassandra? I can identify some of the root causes but as for the solution? That would take a better mind than mine.” She shook her head. “What happened in Kirkwall wasn’t the _cause_ of the mage rebellion. It was just the spark that set the whole thing alight. If it hadn’t been that Anders fool, it would have been someone else.” She shook her head again. “On the whole, I would have preferred someone else. I suspect they wouldn’t have blown up an entire Chantry and everyone in it. But that’s beside the point, it would have happened somehow. The Circles were like a container full of bog gas. Stinking and ready to blow up at any moment.”

“That’s an interesting mental image,” Leliana said lightly, defusing the mood somewhat.

Ceridwen gave another of those impish grins. “I had a friend in Circle who was an alchemist. He liked to experiment with bog gasses. The boom was always pretty impressive. It used to drive the First Enchanter wild and scare the willies out of the younger apprentices.”

“She never forbade him from continuing his work?”

“Nope, though I think she wanted to.” Ceridwen laughed. “But he was very good at what he did.” She sobered and sighed. “He was at the Conclave as well.”

“We all lost people there,” Cassandra said sombrely.

They sat in silence for a moment before Ceridwen gave herself a shake.

“Alright, enough of that,” she said briskly. “Wasn’t this supposed to be a mutual thing? So…” Her eyes narrowed and she pointed a finger at the Seeker. “Cassandra. Funniest thing that ever happened when you were in training?”

Cassandra gave her a blank look for a moment then she smiled a little when she understood what the mage was doing. She opened her mouth then closed it then laughed a little.

“Alright,” she said, her smile broadening a little which was something Ceridwen was delighted to see. She knew that the Seeker wasn’t all grim and serious _all_ the time. “It was about six months after I’d started and…”

Ceridwen rested an elbow on the table as she listened to Cassandra. There might be a great big hole in the sky, she might have a strange mark on her hand and the world might be going to hell in a handbasket but she’d be damned if she wasn’t going to get to know these people she was now working with a little better.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set after In Hushed Whispers. Just a little conversation between Ceridwen and Cullen. Late at night. Alone. Sort of.

Ceridwen stared into the darkness in the tiny room that had been assigned to her in the Chantry. She was tired and still aching from their little jaunt through the future in Redcliffe but she couldn’t for the life of her get to sleep even though she knew it was very late… or very early, depending on your point of view. Eventually she gave up trying and sat up. A spark from her fingers lit the candle beside the bed and she threw on a shirt and trousers before heading out.

She wandered through the quiet corridors, heading for the refectory. Even at this late hour she ought to be able to get a cup of tea at the very least. When she got there, there was only one other person in the room – a scout who was fast asleep at one of the tables, his head pillowed on his arms. Ceridwen contemplated waking the poor man and sending him to his bed but she knew the scouts were all quartered in tents outside. It was quite possible the man had come here deliberately, seeking warmth and quiet.

She got her cup of tea and sat down at one of the tables, cradling the cup in her hands to savour the warmth. She had just taken a sip when the door opened and Commander Cullen walked in. He looked as tired as she did. As she watched, he saw the scout and smiled a little, shaking his head, then he caught sight of her and a look of surprise crossed his face. However, he collected a cup of tea himself before approaching her.

“Can’t sleep?” he asked.

Ceridwen gestured for him to sit down. “Not really. I’m not sure if I’m overtired or if my subconscious just doesn’t want to sleep because it knows what I’m going to dream about.”

“That… dark future you saw,” Cullen said, looking grim but still sympathetic.

Ceridwen nodded. “Experienced more than saw but yes.” She shuddered. “You know… before that, I had worries and fears about what might happen if we didn’t succeed but they were amorphous and vague because, well, we didn’t know who was behind all of this or what was really going on. But now…”

“Now you know,” Cullen said.

“Exactly. I know what will happen. I know everyone is going to die if we don’t succeed.” She smiled wryly. “So… no pressure or anything.”

Cullen chuckled and Ceridwen suddenly wanted to bang her head against the table. Flirting with him was one thing. Sitting here feeling triumphant because she’d made him laugh and admiring his smile and the way it lit up his face was another thing entirely. She was entirely too old for silly crushes, especially silly crushes on Templars. She thought she’d gotten over that with… oh, what was his name?

Cullen had stopped smiling while she had been mentally berating herself and now he was looking down into his cup with a pensive look on his face.

“Silver for your thoughts?” she said, raising an eyebrow at him.

Cullen looked up at her. He looked curious and just a little concerned. “Why _did_ you offer the mages a full alliance? It wasn’t just…”

“Because I’m a mage myself?” Ceridwen finished for him. She shook her head. “No, it wasn’t that though I’ll admit it was a factor. I know my fellow mages, Cullen. We don’t work well when we’re feeling oppressed and downtrodden.”

Cullen gave her a slightly sceptical look. “So, if it wasn’t that, what was it?”

Ceridwen sighed and turned her cup around on the table a couple of times. “When the decision was made to rebel against the Circles and the Chantry, it was made by a vote. Oh, there were a lot of speeches and whatnot first but, in the end, every mage who was there got to cast a vote. One mage, one vote and the majority decision would rule. Everyone got their say and no one made arbitrary decisions for all of us.”

She grimaced. “But at Redcliffe… Fiona made the decision to hand the mages over to Alexius. She didn’t consult them, she didn’t call for a vote, she just… decided. Maybe she was being influenced by Alexius, I don’t know. But in the end, she made a terrible decision that affected every mage there.”

Now she looked up at Cullen, her expression sober and serious. “I wasn’t going to punish all of the mages for the decision of one of them, even if that decision maker was their ostensible leader. It wouldn’t have been right, Cullen.”

Cullen gave her a long look then sighed. “You have a point.”

“I know it’s not what you wanted and I know you’re worried about the consequences,” she began.

Cullen held up one hand. “It’s not about what I want, Herald… Ceridwen. Yes, I would have preferred to seek the aid of the Templars but I’ll also admit that I have my biases. But I’m not out there making those decisions on the ground. You are and I respect and trust your judgement.”

Maker damn him. Maker damn _her_! She was blushing. She was blushing like a schoolgirl receiving her first compliment. How was it _possible_ that he could do this to her? Dorian had been flirting a mile a minute practically since she’d met him and she hadn’t blushed once at anything _he’d_ said. Well, except for that one comment but that had been less of a compliment and more of a blatant innuendo so it didn’t count. But Cullen! One little comment and here she was, feeling all warm and fuzzy. Next thing you know, she’d be carving hearts and their initials into the table!

“I… thank you,” she said past her internal turmoil.

There was a moment of slightly awkward silence then Cullen spoke again.

“I may end up regretting asking this but… in that dark future? What happened to…”

“You?”

“Er… well, yes.”

Ceridwen frowned. “I don’t know actually. I found the others in the cells.” She shuddered. “They’d all been affected… or perhaps _infected_... by red lyrium. They were… mostly themselves though. You know we found Leliana.”

Cullen nodded when she broke off and then she sighed.

“The others were more or less themselves but Leliana…” She shook her head. “She’d changed. Not just physically. She was… blighted or something similar to that. But she was so harsh and ruthless.”

“She has that capability now,” Cullen pointed out. “You don’t get to be a Spymaster by being all sweetness and light. And given what you described of that future, she probably had good cause for being how she was.”

“You probably right,” Ceridwen said with a grimace. “It was just… startling.” She shook her head. “But I never found any sign of you or Josephine.”

“I’m not sure if that’s reassuring or disturbing,” Cullen replied. “Still… if I died, I hope I went out fighting.”

Ceridwen didn’t know what to say to that without sounding like an idiot. “Well,” she said finally. “Let’s hope it never happens. I’m not sure I’ll have a handy time-travelling rift to fix things again if it does.”

Cullen chuckled ruefully. “I’m sorry. I’m not sure I’ve helped either of us get to sleep by asking about what you saw.”

“No, not really,” Ceridwen said. “I’m more awake now than I was before.”

A snort and a gasp drew their attention over to the scout who had suddenly woken. The man looked around the room wildly, stared at the two of them blankly for a moment then dropped his head back down onto his arms and apparently went straight back to sleep. They stared at the scout for a moment then stared at each other before breaking down in quiet laughter.

Ceridwen couldn’t help but notice that when Cullen relaxed and smiled and laughed, he seemed less like a Templar and more like… just a man, a soldier. And, her traitorous mind supplied, damned handsome.

Maker help her, this was going to drive her mad.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the confrontation with Corypheus up to finding the Inquisition camp, Ceridwen comes to terms with a few things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is turning out to be a bit of a slow burn sort of series but the female mage inquisitor playthrough does offer some very interesting dialogue choices even early on and it's an interesting pairing of mage and former Templar, with all the complexities that offers, so I'm sort of savouring it. But I suspect it'll pick up now that they're all at Skyhold. :D

Waking up in the cave under Haven was one of the most painful things Ceridwen had ever done. The actual waking up and lying there and collecting her wits hadn’t been too bad but the moment she’d made a move to sit up, every part of her body had complained loudly. She’d struggled to her feet through the pain and simply stood there for a moment, trying to catalogue everything. She felt like a giant walking bruise but she was fairly certain that she didn’t have any broken bones and nothing was damaged internally.

A glance upwards told her that she wasn’t getting out the same way she’d come in here. In fact, from the look of it, she was lucky the ceiling of the cave hadn’t collapsed in after her. But either way, that exit was sealed shut. Her only choice was to follow the path she could see ahead of her and hope that it lead somewhere.

She limped along, wincing with the pain both from the extensive bruising she’d received and the way the mark on her hand was reacting. It felt different now after that… Corypheus’ attempt to remove it. She shuddered at the thought of the huge… whatever he was. Tevinter magister apparently but he didn’t look human enough to be that anymore. She supposed it was a good thing that they finally had a name and a description to put to their enemy, to the one who’d caused the Breach, but she almost despaired. How could they defeat a being like Corypheus, especially if he had an archdemon at his side? It seemed impossible.

She forced herself onwards through the tunnels until she ran across the demons and then she got a good idea of exactly how the mark… the Anchor… had changed. Watching the demons get sucked into that tiny rift was disturbing and… incredibly useful.

She stared down at her hand and flexed it a few times after the demon had gone and the spell effects had faded. There was so much potential in the anchor and she would privately admit it scared her sometimes. And after what Corypheus had said, she’d be pretty much willing to admit that publicly as well. She still had no memory of what had happened at the Conclave to form the Breach but if she believed what Corypheus had said, she somehow interrupted something, stole this anchor from him. How, she had no idea. 

She sighed and pushed herself onwards, sighing with somewhat premature relief when she emerged from the cave into a howling snowstorm. She winced and shielded her eyes with one arm. There was nothing else she could but push on. The others had escaped. The flaming arrow had told her that much. So they were out there somewhere and waiting for her. She knew that. They would wait, probably wait beyond the time a sensible person would, all in the desperate hope she’d survived.

She stepped out into the snow, heading for the wreckage she could see ahead. It had to be from them. They’d have left a trail. That many people couldn’t help but leave a trail that not even this snowstorm could obliterate. She’d find them.

A determination that was easier to think than to carry out. The cold stabbed through her and made her ache even more than she already was. It made her want to just curl up in the snow and sleep but after surviving Corypheus and his archdemon, she’d be damned if she’d let the cold do his work for him. Finally though, she found fresh signs of the people of Haven and the Inquisition and when she rounded the rock formation and saw the lights of the camp, she sank to her knees with sheer relief.

The sound of Cullen’s voice made her raise her head. The commander was running towards her with a look of concern and sheer relief on his face that made her feel warm and she somehow conjured up a wan smile as he went down on one knee in front of her.

“Are you alright?” he said urgently, one hand clutching at her shoulder.

She could see Cassandra and some of the Inquisition soldiers coming up behind Cullen and the sure and sound knowledge that she was truly safe made her collapse forward and let her head rest on Cullen’s shoulder, buried in the furred collar he wore. It was soft and warm and she was suddenly surrounded by the scent of him and she breathed in deeply, letting it calm her. 

She smiled a little when his arm came round her shoulders almost automatically and she finally conceded that she _liked_ him. His Templar status, former or otherwise, be damned. She liked him. More than she probably ought to. More than was probably wise under the circumstances. But she liked him. Not the Templar but the man what had stammered his way through answering her impertinent questions about the vows Templars took. The man who had looked at her with such bleak despair in the Chantry when they’d both realised that the only hope of saving everyone was for her to go out on what seemed on the surface to be a suicide mission of playing the decoy and bait. The man who now held her and didn’t seem entirely inclined to let her go. 

She felt Cassandra crouch down beside her and place a hand on her shoulder. “She’s freezing, Cullen,” the Seeker said. “We must get her back to camp.”

She felt Cullen’s nod and then the commander was shifting around so that he could lift her to her feet.

“Can you walk?” he asked.

She raised her head and let him help her up. “Even if I couldn’t, I would.” She gestured briefly towards the camp. “They need to see me walk in, even if I’m being helped.”

He gave her a small smile and nod and when her stomach flipped, she didn’t bother feeling exasperated. He probably didn’t return whatever feeling was kindling within her but that didn’t matter right now.

“Let us go then,” Cassandra said.

Ceridwen gave the Seeker a smile and they made their slow way down to the warm lights of the camp.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is set just after the scene with the first kiss with Cullen.

Ceridwen wandered across the upper courtyard, pointedly ignoring the amused looks that she was garnering. She was well aware that she had a somewhat fatuously silly smile on her face but she really didn’t care right now. In fact, she didn’t care about much of anything right now. She was busy floating on a nice little bubble of happiness.

Because Cullen had kissed her. 

They’d been leading up to this ever since they’d gotten to Skyhold, perhaps even before then. The little voice inside her head that warned her about getting involved with Templars had gone mercifully silent after the destruction of Haven. Cullen was many things but a Templar wasn’t one of them. Not anymore.

She’d gone over to his office with the somewhat intent of finding out more about Samson. At least, that’s what she would have told anyone if they’d asked. But she’d known that was just the spurious reason to cover what she actually wanted. She’d wanted to… well, not force the issue but at least get some idea of whether there was really any chance for them or whether she was just deluding herself.

And he’d kissed her.

Eventually anyway. She giggled a little. That poor soldier. She hoped he wasn’t going to end up on scout duty in the Hissing Wastes for his untimely interruption. She’d be annoyed with him but frankly she was in far too good a mood to be annoyed with _anyone_ right now. 

Because, oh, that kiss.

Despite his blushes and awkwardness, she _had_ always assumed that Cullen had some experience in the field, so to speak. She’d seen the blushes and awkwardness of a virgin before and they hadn’t been the same as Cullen’s. In fact, his reactions, which to her had seemed to be those of someone who was unsure if his feelings would be returned and who was respectful enough to not wish to discuss past conquests, had given her the encouragement she’d needed to broach the subject today. And he’d proven quite emphatically he was no blushing virgin. A blushing virgin does _not_ kiss the way he did.

She sighed happily and touched her lips with her fingers. She’d admit that she had pictured their potential first kiss many times over the last few weeks but the reality had been so much better than her daydreams. She felt ridiculously like a teenage apprentice again, mooning over the good-looking Templars and mages.

“So, shall I take it that our good commander’s prowess with a kiss is to be lauded?”

Ceridwen gave a yelp and she turned to find Leliana walking next to her. And from the amused look on the other woman’s face, she’d probably been walking beside her for some while.

“I… what?” Ceridwen squeaked, her eyes wide. “How did you _know_?”

Leliana laughed. “You were on the battlements, my dear Inquisitor. The guards on duty, who studiously avoided that part of their patrols once they realised what was going on, have seen to it that half the castle knows already. The other half should know by nightfall.”

Ceridwen stared at Leliana for a long moment and then could only laugh helplessly. “Oh, dear. I… that’s… awkward.”

“The soldiers do love their gossip,” Leliana said with a smile. “And they’re very pleased about this.”

“They are?” Ceridwen looked surprised. “Really?”

“Really,” Leliana replied. “Cullen is popular among his troops and well-respected but his drive and determination often make him seem a little distant, even aloof. This… little romance makes him seem more human, more like them. It’s endearing, that even their driven commander can be captured by love.”

Ceridwen blushed. “I… didn’t know.”

“And you… you are their Inquisitor,” Leliana continued. “You are the Herald of Andraste. Titles like that make you seem more like a figure of legend than a real person. But it is hard to follow a figure of legend. Ordinary folk need to know that their leaders are people too.”

“You know all of this already?” Ceridwen said dubiously. “I know you’re good at your job, Leliana, but this…”

Leliana laughed again. “Some of it I know. My people hear everything and tell it to me. The rest is… easily extrapolated from what is said and what is _not_ said and from expressions and body language. I watched you walk across the yard and I watched the people watch you. Their smiles and reactions told me everything I needed to know.”

“It was just a kiss,” Ceridwen said plaintively. “A first kiss at that.”

“A kiss that has left you smiling like a giddy schoolgirl,” Leliana teased. “So, a good kiss, a welcome kiss. Most people here will know what that is like and they see you and remember their own first kiss. And no doubt Cullen’s people will find him much easier to deal with this afternoon.”

Ceridwen could do little more than laugh. It was, she concluded, unrealistic to expect that this thing between her and Cullen would remain secret but she’d never expected that it would have the effect that it did.

Leliana placed a hand on her arm. “I did not mean to overwhelm you. Or inhibit you in any way.”

“No… no, it’s alright,” Ceridwen said. “I’m… happy.”

“I’m glad,” Leliana replied sincerely. “Cullen has… not had the easiest life. If you make him happy and he makes you happy, that can only be a good thing.”

Ceridwen frowned. “I’d… suspected that. About Cullen not having an easy time of it. Some things he’s said and some things he wouldn’t say anything about. Leliana, what happened to him?”

Leliana hesitated, her expression sombre. “If I did not know of this new relationship between the two of you, I might have answered that question but now? These are things you must ask him. Perhaps not now, not soon, but eventually. I believe he will tell you.”

Ceridwen nodded, not entirely happy with that answer but seeing the sense in it. As much as she wanted to know, she had to admit that it would be like going behind his back and betraying his trust. She just hoped Leliana was right and that Cullen would tell her. She quickly scotched whatever plans she’d had of contacting some old friends from the Circle to see what they could tell her. She would wait.

“So,” Leliana said, her expression becoming distinctly impish as she changed the subject a little. “Our good commander can kiss well, can he?”

Ceridwen blushed and then grinned at the spymaster. “You have _no_ idea how well he can kiss.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a random snapshot that occurs after the first kiss and Dorian's personal quest at Redcliffe but before any of the events at Adamant or Halamshiral.

“Can I just say that I’m terribly envious?”

Ceridwen looked up from the book she was reading hurriedly and if her expression was just a little furtive then Dorian, who had been the one to speak to her, was hardly likely to comment. Much, anyway. She wasn’t precisely _hiding_ from her advisors up here on the highest reachable point of the battlements but she was certainly claiming the afternoon for herself.

“How did you find me?” she demanded then she frowned. “And why are you envious?”

Dorian folded himself down into a sitting position with a grace that she rather envied. “I saw you come up here earlier,” he said simply. “And why am I envious? Cullen, my dear Ceridwen. That man is positively delicious.”

Ceridwen let the issue of how he found her go. She wasn’t, after all, hiding. Not at all. But his second comment had her grinning wickedly. “Isn’t he just?”

“You wretched tease,” Dorian said with a laugh. “Has he done more than kiss you? Do tell. I want to live vicariously through you.”

Ceridwen arched an eyebrow at him. “You’re going to live vicariously through _me_? Dorian, that’s just sad.”

Dorian heaved a very fake put upon sigh. “I know. Sad and tragic. The perils of being the _evil Tevinter mage_ , I’m afraid.” He snapped his fingers a couple of times. “Now, _details_ , woman. I want details.”

Ceridwen put her book aside and laughed. If someone had told her that Dorian was going to become one of her best friends when they’d first met, she’d have laughed in their face. She hadn’t trusted him, despite the fact that he’d seemed sincere in his desire to stop Alexius. That had changed when they’d been flung into the future. He’d proven himself a man of his word there and by the time they’d returned to Haven, she’d not only trusted him but liked him.

But it had been the letter from his father and the results of it in Redcliffe that had cemented the friendship. She’d been genuinely startled and even angry when she’d found out what Dorian’s father had been intending but there had been something about the way the man had held himself, the way he’d spoken and the complete lack of any retainers or guards or anything that might suggest a trap that had prompted her to urge the two of them to just _talk_ to each other. The reconciliation was tentative and fragile but she was glad to see it. And she rather thought Dorian was glad too, though getting him to ever admit it might be a challenge. 

It had given her a friend though. A genuine friend with no ulterior motives, no matter what the gossips might say.

“Details, huh?” she said archly. “Just what kind of details were you after?”

Dorian grinned wickedly. “Does he kiss like a Chantry boy or a man who knows what he’s doing?”

Ceridwen blushed just a little. That first kiss had been followed by others, each one just as good as the first, if not better. In fact, kissing Cullen was rapidly becoming her favourite pastime. “Oh, he knows what he’s doing.”

“Not as wholesome and clean cut as he looks, eh?” Dorian said with a roguish waggle of his eyebrows. “I like it.”

“So do I.”

“I bet you do.”

They stared at each other for a moment then they both started laughing. When they finally managed to stop, Dorian gave her a more serious look.

“Does he make you happy?”

Ceridwen’s smile was soft and lit up her face. “Yes.”

Dorian returned the smile and then mock-pouted. “Now I’m really jealous. All I wanted to do was find out if that fur collar of his was as soft as it looks.”

“It is,” Ceridwen said brightly. “Lovely and soft.”

“Hmph,” Dorian said, trying to look put out, though the hidden smirk that was making his lips quiver gave him away. “Soft on the outside and hard on the inside, eh?”

“ _Dorian_!” Ceridwen sputtered, laughing and blushing.

“I don’t know what _you_ were thinking. _I_ meant all that muscle. He’s a soldier, after all,” Dorian said, grinning. “Your mind is a positively filthy.”

“I’m going to throw this book at you in a minute,” she said, picking up the aforementioned book and brandishing it threateningly.

“And people tell _me_ that I abuse books abominably,” Cassandra said as she appeared at the top of the rather dilapidated staircase that led up to where they were sitting. “But I’m sure Dorian has earned such a fate.”

Dorian placed his hand over his heart. “Cassandra, you wound me. I am perfectly innocent. I am as pure…”

“As what they shovel out of a stable,” Cassandra finished dryly, sending Ceridwen off into a fit of laughter.

“I do believe I’m being picked on.” Dorian’s smile indicated that he didn’t mind one bit.

“I think you are,” Ceridwen replied. “And it looks like my hiding place has been discovered.” She paused. “Wait, no, I didn’t say that. I was not hiding.”

Cassandra looked faintly amused. “Of course not. Why would the Herald of Andraste hide from mere paperwork?”

“Shush, you,” Ceridwen said archly. “No, wait… why are you here? Nothing’s gone wrong has it?”

Cassandra’s amusement deepened. “Contrary to what Varric might say, I am not a herald of doom. Leliana is looking for you.”

Ceridwen went very still. “Wait, Leliana doesn’t already know where I am. Is this a day of miracles?”

Dorian laughed and Ceridwen nearly cheered when she saw that she’d gotten Cassandra to actually smile. It was a small one but it still counted as a smile. 

“I’m sure she does know,” Cassandra replied. “But she’s just being polite.”

“Damn,” Ceridwen said as she got to her feet and tucked her book under her arm. “I guess my afternoon of laziness is over.”

“An Inquisitor’s work is never done,” Dorian said lightly as he also got to his feet. “But look on the bright side, now that you’re not hiding anymore, once you’re finished with whatever Leliana wants, you can go and drag Cullen off somewhere and explore his tonsils a bit. Maybe even do some fondling.”

“ _Dorian_!” Ceridwen yelped. She swatted at him and chased after him when he took off down the stairs.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one is set just after the Inquisitor has to make the decision about Cullen and the lyrium. I wanted to try and write Solas and I hope I've done him justice.

Ceridwen didn’t realise that her hands were shaking, that _she_ was shaking until she was across the walkway that lead back to the main building and trying to open the door. Her hands fumbled with the handle and she cursed under her breath as she stared at them, stared at the trembling that was so obvious. She was so caught up in staring at the trembling of her hands that she didn’t notice the door open.

“Inquisitor? _Ceridwen_?”

She looked up with a start into Solas’ curious and slightly worried eyes. She swallowed and opened her mouth but nothing came out and Solas’ worried look increased.

“Come,” he said decisively and he took her hand, one eyebrow rising slightly as he noticed the trembling. He led her inside and settled her on the couch that sat against part of the curved wall. He left her alone for a moment then returned bearing two goblets. He eyed her still trembling hands and placed her goblet on the small table beside the couch before sitting down next to her.

“Now, my friend, tell me what it is that distresses you,” he said. He looked in the direction she’d come from. There was only one person who had his lair in that particular direction but he couldn’t imagine that Cullen would have done anything to distress Ceridwen. The man’s feelings for their Inquisitor were well-known. 

“I…” Ceridwen began but she couldn’t find a way to continue.

“Has Commander Cullen done something to hurt you?” Solas asked, feeling confident that wasn’t the case but suspecting the question might be enough to shake Ceridwen out of this state.

“What?” she said, her eyes wide. “No! No, he hasn’t… he _wouldn’t_ … how could you…”

Solas raised an eyebrow. “You return from his office in a state of distress.”

“I… he…” Ceridwen drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “How… how much do you know about Templars?”

“Quite a bit,” Solas replied. “What specifically are you referencing?”

“How they get their powers.”

“Ah,” Solas said. “They consume lyrium.”

“They’re addicted to it.”

Solas nodded. “An unfortunate side effect of using lyrium.” He cocked his head slightly. “And this has to do with Cullen how?”

“He was a Templar,” Ceridwen said in a small voice. “But he… he stopped taking lyrium when Cassandra recruited him.”

Solas nodded again and suddenly a number of things he’d seen Cullen do now made sense. The sudden clenching of his fists for no apparent reason, the way the man would abruptly hunch his shoulders and hold himself so tightly as though he would fly apart if he did not, the odd occasion when he would disappear entirely and Solas would find bewildered soldiers in his room asking if he’d seen the Commander.

“A brave move,” he said with open admiration in his voice. It was no lie either. He had seen Templars in the Fade, suffering from lyrium withdrawal. He had never been able to speak to them. Their attention was entirely directed inwards to the torment that had ripped them from their life.

“He… he told me a while back, after I became Inquisitor,” Ceridwen continued, still in that small fragile voice. “He said I should know. But today… today he asked whether he should still be taking the lyrium. He left it to _me_ to decide.”

Solas couldn’t help his surprise at that particular piece of news. “Why would he ask you such a thing?”

“Because he doesn’t trust his own judgement and he thinks Cassandra’s going easy on him,” Ceridwen replied. “He wants to do what’s best for the Inquisition.”

“That would be ridding himself of his addiction, surely.”

“That’s what I said.”

Solas looked at her and then set his goblet aside. He gently took one of her hands in his own. “Then what distresses you, my friend?”

“He asked _me_ ,” she said plaintively.

Solas arched an eyebrow. “You are the Inquisitor. You are his commanding officer.”

“I am a mage,” she replied bitterly.

“That is obvious.”

“He…” She drew in a breath and let it go. “His past with mages is… is not good. How could he trust me to make that sort of decision?”

Solas smiled slightly. “Because you… are _you_. Whatever his experiences with mages in the past, _they_ are not _you_.” His smile widened a little, even became a little mischievous. “And his regard for you means that your words carry a weight that not even Cassandra can achieve.”

She blinked as she looked at him but he could feel the trembling in the hand he still held subsiding.

“Put quite simply, my friend, he trusts you when he feels he cannot trust himself. He trusts you to have his best interests at heart,” Solas continued. “I would consider that a great honour, not something to feel distressed about.” He gave another of those small, almost mischievous smiles again. “He has given you his heart, why should it be so strange that he has given you his trust as well?”

Ceridwen blushed and then she smiled. Solas was pleased to see the smile held no shadows or doubts and that her eyes were clear.

“I… never thought about it like that before,” she said softly, almost shyly.

“I hope that he succeeds,” Solas said with satisfaction. “No, I believe he _will_ succeed. I hope that his battle goes as well as such things can. He deserves that.”

“Yes,” Ceridwen said, her smile now genuine and fond. “Yes, he does.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, taking a turn from previous chapters, this one is pretty much just plain old PWP smutty smut. Enjoy. Though this is the first smut I've written in ages so it's not as good as it could be. Maybe I'll just have to practice and write some more. :D
> 
> Oh, and it's set somewhere after they tested the sturdiness of Cullen's desk but before going to the Temple of Mythal.

Cullen trudged across the yard, hunching his shoulders against the chill wind that had swept in with the setting sun. His meeting with Leliana after dinner had gone longer than he’d anticipated and he was tired and looking forward to his bed. He’d hoped to speak to Ceridwen since she’d returned that afternoon from her expedition to the Hissing Wastes but it was far too late now. It would have to wait until tomorrow and as he climbed the stairs to the battlements, he felt a faint sense of disgruntlement about that. 

He made his way to his office and as soon as he opened the door, he knew something wasn’t quite right. For one, there were candles lit in his office. He knew there hadn’t been when he’d left nor had there been candles lit upstairs where he had his quarters. He set the reports he’d been reviewing with Leliana down on his desk and with one hand on the hilt of his sword, he prowled around the office. 

There was no sign of who might have lit the candles and he began to feel faintly ridiculous. It was probably just one of his people or even one of Leliana’s, knowing their meeting had gone late and ensuring he didn’t have to return to a darkened room. He shook his head and made his way to the ladder and climbed up it. When he got up to his room, he stopped just a couple of steps from the ladder and stared.

There were about half a dozen candles lit around the room but that wasn’t what had his attention. His bed was not empty. Ceridwen was lying on her side, slightly curled up and fast asleep, and though she had drawn up the blankets, it was quite plain that she was not wearing a stitch of clothing.

He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. He carefully and quietly removed his armour and boots until he was left in nothing more than his breeches and the loose shirt he wore under all the armour. He padded over to the bed and sat down, running one hand over Ceridwen’s bare shoulder.

She stirred at his touch and as he watched, her eyes opened and focused on him. “You’re late,” she murmured sleepily.

He smiled down at her. “I know. Though if I’d known you were here, I’d have cut my meeting short. Leliana would have understood.”

She smiled back at him and shifted into her back. As she did, the blankets slipped down to reveal her breasts. She made no attempt to cover up again and the impish look in her eyes told him that was quite deliberate.

He eyed her hungrily. She’d been away for far too long and all of a sudden he didn’t feel tired anymore. “Maker’s breath, Ceridwen. Do you know what you do to me?”

“I have an idea,” she said with a silvery laugh as she reached for him. “But you could show me anyway.”

He stripped off his shirt and tossed it aside then let her pull him down on top of her and into a kiss. He could feel her breasts pressing against his chest and he pressed a line of kisses down her throat, nipping at her collarbone when he reached it. He felt her slide her fingers through his hair and he hummed his approval before placing a line of nipping kisses down between her breasts.

“Ah, Cullen, please,” she moaned, running her hands through his hair. “Don’t tease. It’s been too long.”

He looked up at her with a tiny smirk, rubbing his stubble against her skin and making her yelp and giggle. “That sounds like the best reason to tease.”

She returned his smirk. “Well, if you’re going to be evil, I’m going to return the favour.” She wriggled underneath him, making him groan and close his eyes. When he opened them again, he realised she pulled the blankets away entirely and she was lying there, completely naked.

His breath caught in his throat as he looked at her lying in his bed. “ _Maker_. Very evil.”

She raised her arms over her head and undulated. Her eyes were full of desire and mischief. “What are you going to do about it?”

He captured her lips in a searing kiss and this time when he worked his way down her body, he didn’t tease. He kissed the underside of her breast and then took the nipple in his mouth, sucking on it gently and drawing the most delicious mewling sound from her. He switched to the other nipple and laved each of them in turn until she was clutching at his shoulders and writhing under him.

He worked his way down her stomach, alternating kisses with gentle rubbing of his stubble, smiling at the whimpers and giggles he got for that. When he reached her mound, he paused, pressing his lips against her but doing nothing more.

“Andraste’s arse, Cullen,” she growled breathily. “If you stop now, I’m going to kill you.”

He chuckled and felt her jolt against him. “Isn’t that counterproductive?”

“ _Cullen_!”

He chuckled again and spread her open so that he could run his tongue over her clit. She mewled and bucked underneath him and he felt his cock throb in his breeches. It had been too many weeks of nothing but his memories of her and his own hand but now that she was here, he was not inclined to rush. He wanted to hear all the sounds she made and taste every part of her.

He licked and sucked on her clit then slowly slid a finger inside her, revelling in her breathy moans and cries. One finger became two then three and he felt her shudder around him. He sucked hard on her clit and she wailed as she came, clenching around his fingers as she did.

Her hands grabbed at his shoulders and he let her draw him back up and into a kiss. It was his turn to moan when he felt her hand slide over the front of his breeches and curl around his erection as best as she could through the fabric. He was as hard as a rock and he bucked into her hand before managing to still his hips.

“Sweet Maker, Ceri,” he groaned. “Don’t…”

“Get out of these breeches, Cullen,” she demanded.

He was only too eager to obey and somehow managed to do just that without falling off the bed or otherwise making a fool of himself. She wrapped her hand around his exposed cock and stroked once. He groaned and let his head fall onto her shoulder.

“I want you, Cullen,” she breathed into his ear. “Too many weeks tromping around the damn desert, thinking about you and putting up with Dorian’s smutty little comments, then you were in a damn meeting half the night.”

He turned his head enough to nip at the skin of her throat. Her words cut off and she gasped. He followed the nip with a kiss and she sighed. He shifted until the head of his cock was pressing against her entrance then slowly slid in. His groan of sheer pleasure was matched by her breathy sounds and she wrapped her legs around his hips.

He captured her lips in a kiss as he drew back then plunged forward again. With her audible encouragement, he set a fierce pace, seeking both his pleasure as well as her own. He could feel himself getting close and he slid a hand between them, rubbing his fingers over her clit. She bucked against him and then arched and cried out as she came. She tightened around him and he latched onto her neck, knowing he was going to leave a mark but not caring, as his orgasm rushed over him and he came within her with a series of uneven thrusts. He collapsed on top of her and would have moved but her arms wrapped around him and kept him where he was.

“Don’t,” she murmured. “Like it.”

He raised his head enough to kiss her again. “I’m too heavy.”

“You’re perfect.”

He chuckled and took some of his weight on his arms. “I’m hardly that.”

Ceridwen opened her eyes and smiled up at him. “Shush, don’t ruin the moment.”

He caressed her cheek. “I love you.”

“That’s better.” She cupped his cheek. “I love you too.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is set at an indeterminate time after they first sleep together and before the Temple of Mythal. Just a fluffy little piece of fluff after a mildly angsty opening.

Ceridwen opened her eyes and lay still, trying to work out what had woken her. She knew something had but it took another moment for her brain to kick in to start to realise what it was.

Cullen had moved away from her. 

That was unusual. Whenever they were in his bed or hers, they always fell asleep in each other’s arms and woke up that way. She liked that. She’d never slept better than in Cullen’s protective embrace. She felt safe and secure and that had not always been a familiar feeling in the Circle, even one as well run as Ostwick.

She turned over and saw that he was curled on his side, facing away from her and shaking slightly. Her first thought was that he was suffering through yet another nightmare but then he made a noise and she realised that he was awake. That he’d moved away from her in an effort not to wake her as his body was wracked with pain. He had moments like this, when the pain of the withdrawal rose and grabbed at him, trying to drag him back down. They came less and less with each passing week but each one shook him and drained him.

She moved almost without thought, pressing up against his back and wrapping her arms around him. She buried her face in the back of his neck and whispered his name as she felt him shudder and shake. She wasn’t sure how long it was until the shaking stopped. It was probably only minutes but it felt like hours to Ceridwen… and likely to Cullen as well. When it did, she felt him draw in a deep shaking breath and then he turned in her arms.

“Ceridwen,” he breathed as he rested his forehead against hers. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Cullen…” she began. “You can always wake me for something like this.”

She saw his eyes drop and look away and the shame grow on his face and she drew a mental line in the sand. She had nothing but admiration and respect for his courage and she never wanted to see that look on his face.

“Cullen, look at me,” she said and she waited until he met her eyes again. “This… what you are doing… is one of the bravest things I have ever seen anyone do. _Never_ feel ashamed when it hurts you. Not with me. Never with me. I would do anything to take the pain away but I can’t. So at least let me help.”

Cullen closed his eyes and let out a shaking breath. “Ceri,” he said, his voice now shaking with emotion. He drew her close and then kissed her. It was a chaste kiss, full of the exhaustion that these episodes caused him and yet also full of his love for her as well. “I… I don’t deserve…”

She placed a finger over his lips. “Don’t even finish that statement,” she said sternly. “You deserve to be loved and to be cared for and I intend to do both.”

He opened his eyes and even managed a small wan smile. “What did I do to deserve you?”

She returned the smile and then let it become a touch impish. “Oh, I don’t know. Stand there and look all noble and handsome and make wry comments at me and laugh at my attempts at wit and even answer my impertinent questions about templars and their vows. How could I resist?”

He laughed softly. “Was that what I did?”

“Mmhmm,” she said, kissing the tip of his nose and making him blush. “I mean, I _tried_ to resist. Tried to convince myself that templars and mages don’t mix and that Commanders and Inquisitors don’t mix but you just kept being… well, _you_ and I had to surrender to the inevitable.”

She was pleased to see that he had relaxed as he continued to chuckle at her words, the pain and the lingering shame sloughing away, leaving just her Cullen in their wake. Exhausted and likely aching but just him.

“Just as well I’m a former templar then,” he murmured before kissing her softly. “And Inquisitors make their own rules, don’t they?”

“This one does,” she said with a little smirk that made him chuckle. “Well, mostly anyway. Within reason.”

“That’s what makes you such a good Inquisitor,” he said.

She blushed. “I hope so.” She kissed the end of his nose again. “Alright, your turn. What made me so utterly irresistible? I have to know.”

He laughed and blushed and wrapped her up in his arms, pulling the blankets over them. “I thought you were beautiful the first time I saw you.”

“You did?” Ceridwen looked dubious. “I’d been unconscious for three days and probably looked like something the cat dragged it.”

“You looked beautiful,” he corrected. He smiled wryly. “But then I realised you were a mage and I despaired. I didn’t think… I was sure that rumours of how I’d been in Kirkwall must have gotten around. I knew that if you hadn’t already heard them, you would soon enough. I didn’t think I ever stood a chance.”

“I heard them,” she said quietly. “But I also heard that the mages of Kirkwall were not the innocents the survivors tried to paint them as being. I heard about Orsino and what he did. I heard about the blood mages and the abominations. I also heard about a Knight-Captain who had turned on his Commander and fought for the mages in the end because it was the right thing to do. And it didn’t take long for me to realise that whatever you had been in Kirkwall, you weren’t that man anymore.”

“Then you kept coming to talk to me,” Cullen continued quietly. “You seemed to _want_ to spend time with me. That’s why I answered all your questions.” He smiled a little. “Even the impertinent ones. I wanted you to stay and keep talking.”

Ceridwen laughed and blushed as she ducked her head a little. “I couldn’t believe I asked that. Or that you answered! You just… you looked so adorable when you were blushing and stammering and I liked it and I was _really_ so very impertinent.”

He tucked a finger under her chin and raised her head. “If I hadn’t wanted to answer them, I would have said no. I did that when you asked about Kinloch.”

“You did,” she conceded. “So… why?”

Now it was Cullen’s turn to blush. “Because… I hoped that you were asking because you… wanted to know. It made me hope that maybe there could be something between us. I thought I was being foolish but… I wanted that hope.”

She smiled. “I’m glad it gave you hope. So… what else?”

“Your bravery,” he said. “When Corypheus attacked Haven and I had to send you out there to confront him, you went. You knew what might happen. I could see that. But you went anyway.” His arms tightened around her. “I didn’t want to send you. I wanted to keep you safe but… I…”

“You had to,” she finished for him. “We had to. For the safety of everyone.”

“When you didn’t come back with the others, I… I despaired,” he continued. “Shutting the door to the chantry and leaving was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. And then you appeared out of nowhere in the snow. You were alive. I knew then that I had to say something to you. Somehow. Though I hardly knew how.”

“That’s when I admitted it to myself,” she said. “That I liked you, cared for you. When you came running to me in the snow and let me just collapse against you. I felt so safe, like you were never going to let me go.”

“I didn’t want to,” he said with a hint of intensity. “I liked how you felt in my arms.”

“I liked it too,” she said with a grin. “And it was so nice to find out that fur collar of yours was so soft.”

Cullen laughed. “It’s also warm.”

“Lovely and warm.”

“I tried to find a way of speaking to you, to tell you how I felt,” Cullen continued. “But we were both so busy and you were so often away.”

“And then I came to ask _you_ what you wanted to ask _me_ and you kissed me,” Ceridwen finished then she giggled. “Please tell me you didn’t send that poor man off to some horrible post.”

Cullen laughed and kissed her, nipping her at bottom lip. “I did not, though I _was_ tempted. He’s not mine anyway. He’s one of Leliana’s people. Maker knows how she puts up with him when he’s so oblivious.”

Ceridwen was pleased to see that the strained, haunted look left by the withdrawal episode had completely faded from Cullen’s face, which had been her plan from the beginning. Now he wouldn’t be thinking of the pain or the withdrawal or the shame or anything else, just about them and all the good things.

“Lucky,” she quipped. “Or it’d be a post in the Hissing Wastes for him.”

“I’m not that cruel,” Cullen said with a chuckle. “But he had just interrupted something I’d wanted to do for weeks.”

“Weeks, eh?”

He kissed her much like he had that day. “ _Weeks_.”

“No wonder it was so good.”

Cullen smirked and then a yawn seemed to catch him my surprise. “I… sorry.”

Ceridwen laughed and snuggled up closer to him. “Don’t apologise. Go back to sleep.” She brushed his hair back. “You can continue telling me how irresistible I was in the morning.”

Cullen rested his forehead against hers and sighed with contentment as he closed his eyes. “I’ll do that.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, I gave Ceridwen a scar then realised after I started playing that I didn't have a headcanon for it happening before she became inquisitor. So I headcanoned that it didn't exist until this could happen!

When they brought Ceridwen back, she was unconscious and her face was still covered in blood, the wound there unhealed in favour of more serious injuries. The small group had stopped only long enough to rest the horses and when they cantered through the gates of Skyhold, Ceridwen was cradled gently in the Iron Bull’s arms. The huge Qunari was looking grim and angry underneath the layer of dirt that their rapid return had gathered. 

Solas and Varric were riding close behind. Solas looked exhausted, which was enough to tell those watching that he had been healing the Inquisitor relentlessly. Varric was riding beside the elven mage doing his rather infamous mother hen act. Solas did not seem inclined to complain too much and the way he swayed in the saddle when they came to a halt was answer enough as to why.

Iron Bull somehow managed to dismount without ever shifting Ceridwen in his arms and he stalked towards the infirmary without a backward glance. Solas and Varric dismounted more slowly and Varric shooed the elven mage away towards his rooms as Josephine and Leliana approached. Cullen had been with the other two advisors but he was already disappearing inside Skyhold in Bull’s wake. No one made any attempt to stop him.

“What happened?” Leliana asked, a look of concern on her face.

“We got ambushed,” Varric replied. His voice was hoarse with weariness. “There were… a lot. Venatori _and_ Red Templars. They were after the Inquisitor.” He shook his head. “They just swarmed us before we even knew they were there. Bull…” He broke off and cleared his throat. “If it hadn’t been for Bull, we’d probably all be dead. He went berserk when the Inquisitor went down.” The dwarf snorted. “I think he actually skewered a few of them on his horns.”

“The Inquisitor?” Josephine asked, looking pale and shaken.

“Solas says she’ll live,” Varric replied. “He damn near killed himself healing her. Practically had to knock him out to get him to rest.”

“Your ambushers?” Leliana asked. Her expression was cold and angry.

“Dead.” Varric ran a shaking hand down his face. “We didn’t bother searching them. I’ll show you where we were on the map and you can send people out. They may have information about what this was all about. We had other things on our minds.”

Leliana nodded, her expression softening for just a moment. “Of course. Come, Varric. Let us get this done and then you can get some rest.”

*****

Cullen sat beside Ceridwen’s bed and held one of her hands in his own. The healers had shifted her up to her own rooms after they were done. The worst of her injuries had already been healed by Solas and they were of the opinion she would heal better from what remained in her own rooms. Cullen honestly didn’t care. Whether they were in her rooms or amid the hustle and bustle of the infirmary, he would be doing the same thing. It wasn’t as if no one knew about their relationship. If they’d wanted to be discreet, they would have chosen somewhere other than the well-patrolled battlements to kiss.

He raised her limp hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. The healers had said she would wake soon and he suspected that none of them wanted to be the one to tell her the bad news about her face. He looked at the line of delicate stitches that ran down her face from her forehead to nearly the middle of her cheek, only broken as it skipped over her eye. The healer who had stitched her up had taken his time, making the smallest, most delicate stitches he possibly could to minimise the scarring but she _would_ scar. Cullen touched the scar on his own face. His own scar had never bothered him and hers certainly wouldn’t but while he knew Ceridwen wasn’t a vain woman, he had no idea how she would react to it.

When her hand moved in his, he quickly shifted to sit on the side of the bed and caressed her uninjured cheek. “Ceridwen?” he said softly.

He waited and she slowly opened her eyes. She blinked and looked around in confusion then her gaze fixed on him and she let out a soft sigh.

“Cullen,” she whispered. “Bull? Varr...”

“They’re fine,” he said, interrupting her. “You were… you were the only one who was hurt.”

“They were… trying to kidnap me.”

Anger flooded over Cullen for a moment. They’d speculated that was the case when Leliana had dropped in briefly to tell him what Varric had said and tell him what she’d done. It would be a few days before her agents returned with any information but they’d suspected a kidnapping gone wrong rather than an actual assassination attempt.

“Bull and the others made sure that didn’t happen,” he said grimly.

Her hand drifted up towards her face and he caught it and held it gently. “Cullen?” she said. “My face hurts.”

“I know, love,” he replied. “You have a bad wound there.”

“There was a Templar… with a knife,” she said, frowning as she cudgelled her mind for the memories. She sighed as she gave up. “It’s going to scar, isn’t it?”

Cullen hesitated then nodded. “Yes. Perhaps if it had been healed at the time but Solas could only do so much and you had more serious wounds…”

She pressed her fingers to his lips and gave him a lopsided smile. “It’s okay. He did the right thing. I’m not upset.”

“You’re not?” He looked a bit surprised. Even he’d been unsettled for a few days after he’d been told his wound would scar.

“Scars are rakish,” she replied, her grin broadening momentarily until it made the stitches pull and she hissed at the stab of pain.

Though he was still worried, he couldn’t help the small smile. “They are?”

She ran a finger down his scar, making him shiver. “Very rakish. And sexy.”

He blushed and she giggled. She liked making him blush.

“And dramatic,” she continued. “Think of the impression I’ll make now with my rakish, sexy and dramatic scar.”

He chuckled and caressed her uninjured cheek again. “I think that’s the potions talking.”

“Maybe,” she admitted. “But I’m still not upset.” She shrugged. “It happened. I’m just happy to be alive.”

“As am I,” he breathed, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead.

She caught him behind the head and directed him to her lips. He went willingly though he kept the kiss light and chaste.

“You need rest,” he said when she made a noise of complaint.

Ceridwen grumbled but conceded the point. “Stay?” she asked plaintively.

“I should…” Cullen stopped and smiled, shaking his head. There were many things he _should_ be doing but he _wanted_ to do none of them. And he hadn’t slept well since she’d left. Cassandra was always telling him he needed to rest more and not be so stubborn. He knew she and his lieutenants would happily cover for him as they had been doing since Ceridwen had been brought back. All of that combined meant he was, for once, inclined to give in to Ceridwen’s plea.

He stood and removed his armour and boots, leaving him in just his shirt and breeches. He slid under the sheets next to her and let her arrange herself comfortably against him then wrapped her up gently in his arms.

“Much better,” she said, her voice showing the slur of sleep through her contentment.

His arms tightened momentarily and he pressed a kiss to her hair. She sighed and relaxed against him completely as sleep claimed her. He closed his eyes and offered up a prayer to the Maker for bringing her back to him. He could only hope that would continue in the future.


End file.
